


Rage

by BloodFromTheThorn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 08:18:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6071890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodFromTheThorn/pseuds/BloodFromTheThorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cold of the chantry floor had long since sunk achingly into her knees, promising pain when the numbness eventually wore off, but Rhea couldn’t bring herself to care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rage

The cold of the chantry floor had long since sunk achingly into her knees, promising pain when the numbness eventually wore off, but Rhea couldn't bring herself to care. Her whole body felt _wrong_ in a way she'd never experienced before, so worn down and tired that she wasn't sure it would follow her commands if she tried to stand and so she simply didn't make the attempt, content to kneel in perfect stillness, the cold night air drifting in through the cracks under the large doors.

It had always felt like everything had been going wrong from the start, but it had never truly reached her as it did now, never affected her so badly. Because for the first time, her mistakes had hurt those close to her, and there was no coming back from that. The way Cassandra had glared at her even while declaring her support of the decision, the way Josephine had shaken her head in disappointment, the way Cullen-

She stopped her thoughts there. She couldn't bear to dwell on him any longer. It would do absolutely no good to remember the way he had snarled in anger, his words cutting and cold, as he told her in no uncertain terms that she had made a mistake, had done the unthinkable.

Because to Cullen, the thought of working with free mages _was_ unthinkable, she realised now. The man had been a Templar, for Andraste's sake, and it was totally pitiful that Rhea was only now realising how much the chantry would have shaped his beliefs. Of course, the man was more forward thinking than perhaps any other Templar in history, but that didn't mean he would be okay with releasing their restraints on the rebel mages – as was evident now.

The most stupid thing of all, however, was that somehow Rhea hadn't seen this coming. She'd returned to Haven secure in the knowledge that, yes, the council was going to be upset with her but they'd fall in line with the choice she'd made, and support her now that it was done. Not once on the return journey had she feared that this decision, this spur of the moment, no other option, decision, was going to drive away someone she was genuinely coming to care about.

They weren't friends yet, per se, but Rhea enjoyed his conversation more than anyone else's – if she were to be brutally honest, she knew exactly why that might be, but she couldn't stand to think of a misplaced crush now – and she'd thought that they were growing closer as she proved her worth. At the very least, he had come to respect her as a fighting force and that meant something, surely?

Clearly not. If it had, there wouldn't have been such hate in his eyes when he looked upon her, so far removed from his usual almost-smile and she could cry at the thought of never seeing that expression aimed at her again – she had in fact. When her tears had run dry, she had come here and let the numbness consume her. It was better than hurting.

Logically, she knew that she was being melodramatic. This was not the end of the world – she'd seen the actual end of the world already this week and this didn't even come close – but there wasn't anyone there to care she was falling apart, so why not indulge? Why not let herself fall apart for a few hours? Maker knows how she'd been keeping it together for so long as it was. It was a relief to let herself succumb to the ache in her chest and to admit, even just to herself, that she was terrified of what her world had become.

Her days at the circle could have been yesterday, and she could remember each moment of her last few days there with the painful clarity loss provides – how she longed to be there again. She'd loathed her circle, and longed for freedom, but at least there no one had looked to her to solve their problems; nothing had been expected of her. Now, she was supposed to save the world.

Her knees started to pulse quietly with pain, a reminder that they wouldn't tolerate their position for much longer. She'd come her just after sundown, and it must almost be dawn now – her sense of time had drifted off with the rest of her self-control. People would be waking up soon and it wouldn't be long before someone stumbled across her and started asking questions. It wouldn't do for the Herald of Andraste to be found semi-conscious before the chantry alter.

With a slow exhale, she began the arduous process of getting to her feet. She'd lost feeling in most of her lower leg but she was nothing if not determined, and she could use her staff as a makeshift crutch, letting it take her weight regardless of the danger posed to herself should the thing snap and release its magic. Just one more failure, another mistake on the ever-growing pile of her life.

She was just about standing under her own power when she heard the doors creaking open behind her. She let out a silent curse to a Maker she wasn't sure was listening, and froze in place as soft footsteps approached her.

"Herald?"

Maker's _breath_ , it had to be him, didn't it? Obviously it would be too much for her to ask that she could just avoid the blighted man for even one day, no matter how much she'd done in the Maker's name in the last few weeks.

She didn't turn, steeling herself for the pain when she would be forced to look upon him again. "Cullen. What can I do for you?" Her voice wavered only slightly on his name.

He stopped a few feet away, apparently hesitating. "Are you… You're up early," he said after an awkwardly long pause. She had a mental image of him twisting his hands together in confused concern but then forced it away – he wouldn't care enough to be concerned. He was probably just annoyed that she'd inadvertently derailed his usual morning prayer.

"I was just leaving," she said instead of offering him an explanation. She was starting to tremble, she realised, though whether it was from cold or simply proximity to Cullen she wasn't sure. "Please forgive my intrusion."

She had the distinct impression that Cullen's forgiveness was something that would forever be well beyond her reach, but it couldn't do any more harm to ask for it than to live in uncomfortable silence. Without waiting for a reply, she headed for the door without glancing at him, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor in front of her. It would be just her luck to stumble and fall now, giving him another excuse for why she shouldn't be doing what she was.

A warm hand caught her arm, drawing her to a sharp stop.

Every muscle in her body went tense at the contact, so unexpected and uninvited. There was no reason for him to be touching her, for him to want to be any nearer to her than he had to be.

It wasn't much of a surprise when the hand released her a heartbeat later, as though burned.

"You're freezing," Cullen murmured in surprise. "How long have you been out here?" It didn't seem as though he was waiting for an answer, so Rhea bit her lip and kept silent, pretending she didn't already miss that brief moment of physical contact. No doubt that would be lost to her too, now.

There was a strange shifting sound, Cullen moving around where he stood but she didn't dare look back to see what he was doing. Seeing his face in the first rays of morning light was nothing something she had the strength to deal with. She just wanted to sleep for the next week, to crawl into her bed and hide under the covers until everything was a little less bright, a little less sharp. Of course, that was never going to be an option – she had duties to attend to, and she'd promised to take Dorian up to see the breach later in the day and she'd be damned if she disappointed anymore friends that day, and-

-A warm weight settled around her shoulders. She barely stopped herself from gasping in surprise at the sudden sensation, but it was harder still to bite back the gentle moan of pleasure that tried to escape her as the heat sunk into her frozen skin. It took an embarrassingly long few seconds to realise that the very-warm-thing was in fact Cullen's cloak. She blinked at it in horror.

"C-Commander," she stuttered inarticulately. Her brain was faltering on the information before her, unable to connect the relevant information into something that made sense.

"Come," he said, overriding whatever she might have been trying to say, and stepping closer to her to rest his hand lightly on her back. "I'll walk you back to your quarters. You have to get warmed up before you do anything else."

For the first time that morning, she caught a glimpse of his face and instantly regretted it. She'd expected anger, or annoyance – that she would have understood. It would have hurt, more than anything, but at least she could remember that anger was only ever brought about by caring. To pull such a reaction from him must mean that she meant something, no matter how little. So to see him now, tired and pale in the dawn, with his face completely empty of sentiment or emotion was as a physical blow to someone who had already spent one sleepless night worrying over him.

She returned her gaze to the floor and vowed not to raise it again.

She wanted to run, to scream and flee, but to do so would be improper, and her mother – what little she remembered of the woman – had taught her better than that. It would be the height of rudeness to someone who had just offered to accompany her home and it would certainly cause a scene great enough for Josephine to be knocking her door in, demanding to know what had happened. Instead, she dragged it all inwards, as she had been taught to do with her magic.

Magic and emotions were more intertwined than most people realised – why else would the tranquil become as they did? – and so when she was in such a state as she was now, she had to be more careful than usual that nothing spilled out that wasn't supposed to. The only thing that could make this whole situation worse was for her to prove that she didn't have any more control over her own power than an infant.

"You're quiet," Cullen remarked casually as he herded her down the chantry steps, his hand still pressed to her back.

It was unusual for her, certainly, but she didn't have the energy to make conversation. "Would you rather I spoke?" She asked.

From the corner of her eye, she could see him look up at her in surprise. "Not if you don't want to. You're just normally more… talkative. Forget I said anything."

There was nothing she could reasonably say to that without losing her incredibly tentative grip on her self-control, so she stayed silent as the made their way down the stairs and towards her cabin. She often wondered whose cabin it had been before they had given it to her, but the thought barely crossed her mind at that moment. Did it even matter?

Cullen seemed to be taking his make-sure-the-Herald-doesn't-freeze duties very seriously, because he followed her into the cabin. Without needing to be told, she positioned herself in the chair closest to the already lit fire – the servants had been doing an excellent job – while Cullen snagged a few select pieces of wood from the basket and tossed them into the flames. He hesitated then, clearly unsure, and it took Rhea a minute to work out why – she was still wearing his cloak. He'd need it if he was going out to train with the troops.

Her movements were heavy and uncoordinated with cold and fatigue but she managed to shrug the garment off without getting tangled in it. She was holding it out to him before he seemed to realise what was happening.

"What are you doing? Put that back on. You'll freeze to death if we don't get you warmed up soon. What were you thinking? The chantry's always freezing cold and your armour isn't exactly made for the mountain air."

It was the first real heat she'd heard in his voice all morning, the edge of anger cutting into her. She flinched without meaning to. With her eyes fixed on the flames, she went about pulling the cloak back over her shoulders as she was bid, waiting for Cullen to start shouting at her for her lack of responsibility or common sense. He'd be right to, of course, but that wouldn't make it any easier to hear.

As he was apparently determined to do, he surprised her instead by kneeling at her side, trying and failing to catch her eye. "Herald? You're starting to worry me."

"I'm fine," she managed to choke out, making eye contact for the briefest of moments to try and convince him of her wholeness.

"Are you injured? I can send for a healer."

"I'm fine," she tried again, stronger this time. "I'm not hurt. You don't need to stay and look after me."

Cullen paused, watching her closely before deciding to try a different approach. "There was a… celebration, of sorts, last night. For gaining the mages' support. We were surprised when you didn't show."

She'd known about the celebrations of course, but in the direct aftermath of her catastrophic council meeting, she just couldn't bear the thought of plastering on a smile and pretending she was alright. She'd hidden in her cabin instead until everything had gotten quiet enough for her to be able to sneak into the chantry without fear of running into anyone.

"I was tired," she told him. It wasn't totally a lie.

"It's been a long couple of days," he agreed readily. "No one's going to blame you for some peace for a little while. Is that why you were at the chantry?"

She almost told him. It was there, on the tip of her tongue, just waiting to be spoken, to be unloaded but she couldn't bring herself to do that to him. Everyone needed her to be strong – she couldn't afford to be this fragile, broken thing. Not if they were going to survive.

"I just wanted to pray. That's all."

"You've never been much of the religious sort before," he pointed out without accusation. "Has something changed?"

"Everything," she admitted, not actually meaning to say it. She wanted to take it back as soon as she had.

Cullen nodded. "You're not wrong. Herald… Tell me, honestly. Are you alright? Has something happened that I don't know about?"

"Nothing. I'm fine Commander. You have places to be, I shouldn't be holding you up. My apologies." She reached up to untie the cloak once more, but his hands caught her wrists before she could, holding her firm without hurting her.

"Herald. I can see very clearly that you are not _fine._ Please do not do me the discourtesy of lying directly to my face. My time in the Templars gave me more than enough experience of that, thank you very much."

There was something strange about the way he said it; the words should have been accusatory, and yet they weren't. Instead there was a sort of lilt to them that sounded suspiciously like… joking? Confused, she risked a glance at his face and froze at what she saw there.

His half-smile was there, his eyes shining brightly above it as though they had never been clouded over with fury as they had been last night. All the rage that had been there then, and all the emptiness that had replaced it that morning was just gone, covered over by his usual, heartbreakingly kind face. Between one heartbeat and the next, Rhea felt herself fall.

An emotion she didn't want to put a name to swelled up in her chest, forcing tears to her eyes with its intensity, swallowing up every other inch of her worries and drowning them in the sheer joy that came with it. It didn't matter what happened from then on, Rhea knew. She would love this man through it all and it didn't even really matter to her that he was never going to love her back. Just this small piece of him, this kind, gentle smile, would be enough.

Cullen saw the tears gathering in her eyes and instantly assumed the worst, the smile falling away to concern. "Herald?"

"It's nothing, I mean – Don't worry," she stammered, forcing the tears away so that she might speak without her voice breaking. "I'm alright. Overwhelmed, I think. Thank you."

The gratitude was too heavy for the conversation they were having, but Cullen didn't call her out on it. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Like you said, it's been a long few days. I'm just tired."

"Get some rest then. I'll tell the others to stay away for now – I'm sure we can manage for a few hours without your help."

He was teasing – actually _teasing_ – and it gave her enough courage to joke right back. "I don't know. I'm fairly indispensable, I'll have you know."

Cullen's smile was warm, and she basked in its glow. She didn't have an explanation for his sudden change in demeanour, but she wasn't about to question her good fortune. Maybe the Maker was watching out for her after all.

It would seem that Cullen had other ideas though. He dipped his head, the smile fading as he turned to look at the fire. "I meant to talk to you earlier, but you weren't around last night and… Well, I wanted to tell you that I was sorry. For being short with you about the mages. You were put on the spot and you had to make an immediate decision without consulting anyone – I know how hard that can be. At the end of the day you've given us powerful allies who actually give us a fighting chance of closing the breach and that is nothing to be upset over. You did well."

"You've told me about what happened in Ferelden," she reminded him softly. "You had every reason to be upset with me."

"I didn't. I really didn't. I might not like the thought of the mages running unchecked but what we were doing before clearly wasn't working. Perhaps this way will be better."

"Some mages want war, want bloodshed," Rhea said very quietly, "But the vast majority aren't like that. We just want to live in peace without having to fear the Templars at every turn."

Cullen tensed a little at that. Perhaps he had forgotten that she was a mage herself. "Do you… I was a Templar," he stated, unnecessarily.

He didn't continue for another moment so Rhea frowned at him. "Yes…?"

"Were you… afraid of me?"

In truth, she had been, when she'd been a prisoner with no friends in sight and he was the gruff military commander she had heard stories about but that seemed like so long ago now, it was hardly worth mentioning. He had scared her simply by virtue of being Commander Cullen, not for being an ex-Templar.

"No," she said eventually, because it was what he needed to hear. "Our enemies should fear you, certainly. But I trust that you are on my side."

"Of course," he said, as though surprised that she had ever doubted it.

Rhea allowed herself to smile softly, then tugged her hands free from him and pulled off his cloak, wrapping it back around his own shoulders before he could protest. "You have training to get to," she reminded him with a pointed glance at the growing daylight at the window. "You'll need it more than I."

He smoothed the fabric down idly, then pushed himself to standing. Rhea didn't bother to rise from her own seat. She really was quite comfortable.

"I will see you later, my Lady," he said with an incline of his head.

"Commander," she replied, glad that her voice no longer shook over the title. How quickly things could change.

She watched him go with a sort of peace she hadn't felt since before going to Redcliffe, and sighed wearily. She finally felt tired enough for sleep, but her bed was too far away to be bothered with, so she simply curled deeper into the chair, the fire warming her slowly. His cloak had carried his scent she realised, and it had transferred onto her own clothing sufficiently that she could smell it when she tucked her face into the crook of her elbow.

Rhea fell asleep surrounded by the smell of him and a smile on her face.


End file.
